


let me come and hold you high

by ratherembarrassing



Category: Glee
Genre: Bramtana Week, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherembarrassing/pseuds/ratherembarrassing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hi,” she says as she settles against Brittany’s back, up on her knees so she can see over Brittany’s shoulder and watch them as they kiss.</p><p>“Hey,” Brittany says, as she pulls back a tiny bit, her eyes opening to look up at Santana.</p><p>Sam looks up at her too, a hesitant quirk of a smile on his face. “Hello?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me come and hold you high

**Author's Note:**

> written for none of the actual days of bramtana week, but i didn't let that deter me. i'm not even a little bit sorry.

“Would you two, I don’t know, at least kiss or something?” She kicks her underwear away from her foot. “This is getting  _Wild Things_  levels of weird.”  
  
They’re all really, really naked, and she’s beginning – beginning? okay – to think this was a terrible idea, even if Brittany is a genius.  
  
She has no idea how she ended up agreeing to this.  
  
…  
  
 _“We can’t use a total stranger, we won’t recognize the baby.”_  
  
…  
  
 _“This place is horrible, we’re not making a baby somewhere that looks like an alien probe lab.”_  
  
…  
  
 _“Do you really want half of the little guy or girl to have to hang out in a jar for a couple of hours?”_

…

Okay, so maybe she has  _some_  idea how she ended up here. How  _they_  ended up here; her and Brittany and Sam, and did she mention the naked? That part feels really significant right now.  
  
But she’s going to do it, because it’s what Brittany wants, and she wants Brittany to feel like she’s a part of this. It’s going to be her baby, too.  
  
Asking for Sam’s junk had been weird enough, but coming back a second time and asking for this? She’s still working on some kind of huge gift, like massive, because how exactly do you thank a guy for agreeing to have sex with you while your wife— helps, so you can get pregnant?  
  
(“Are you sure this isn’t some kind of violation of the bro code?” Sam asked.  
  
Santana glared at him. “How the hell would I know?”)  
  
Actually, the task itself is probably thanks enough; they’re both still smoking hot, thank you.  
  
(She’s already told Brittany she wants to kid’s middle name to be Samuel or Samantha. But a week in the Bahamas or Australia or  _something_  might come close to expressing how grateful she is. They are.)  
  
So. They’re three hot people trying to make a baby.  
  
Seems pretty straight forward.  
  
(Straight?)  
  
None of this explains why seeing Sam and Brittany kissing is what finally relaxes her, even though nothing about that is going to get her pregnant. What it is going to get her is to finally believe this is going to be okay, because Sam’s not being weird, and Brittany’s being Brittany, and she has this half-drunken memory of seeing this happen before, under very different circumstances, but after seven years of being the only person that gets to kiss Brittany, it’s oddly comforting to know that some things stay the same.  
  
That is, that Brittany looks hot kissing anyone.  
  
…  
  
Brittany’s hand reaches out behind her, blindly trails along Santana’s arm and down to tangle their fingers together, and she pulls Santana from where she’s sitting at the foot of the bed.  
  
(It’s the bed in their guest room. They’d decided they wanted to do this at home, but their bed is theirs, and it just felt weird.  
  
Brittany had suggested the couch, but they have sex there all the time, so they expanded their criteria to exclude anywhere in the house they hadn’t already had sex.  
  
Somehow the guest room is the only room left.)  
  
She shuffles across the comforter, coming to rest where they’ve met in the middle of the bed. Sam is sitting turned towards Brittany, his legs out to the side, Brittany mirroring his position in the opposite direction, the two of them bridging the width of the bed.  
  
“Hi,” she says as she settles against Brittany’s back, up on her knees so she can see over Brittany’s shoulder and watch them as they kiss.  
  
“Hey,” Brittany says as she pulls back a tiny bit, her eyes opening to look up at Santana.  
  
Sam looks up at her too, a hesitant quirk of a smile on his face. “Hello?”  
  
She cracks up, and just like that she knows this is going to be better than just okay. She loves this guy so much, and she wants this about a billion times more than that, and besides, she made sleeping with guys work for her for a little while once before. With Brittany here? Not a problem.  
  
“Come here, please,” she says, and Sam sits up a bit, bringing them face to face. “Thank you for doing this,” she says, very politely, and then pulls him into a kiss he wasn’t expecting.  
  
(“Just so we’re clear,” she said, pacing the length of the den, “I’m not going to enjoy this.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam said, drawing out the word.  
  
She just wanted to be clear.)  
  
He’s got lips like a girl, and that’s the only reason she moans, just a tiny bit, into Sam’s mouth.  
  
There’s a bit of shifting around, and then Brittany’s behind her, knees on either side of Santana’s, and Sam’s in front of her, and they’re all kneeling on a mattress, so there’s a bit of grabbing so they don’t fall. “Move forward,” Brittany says by her ear, hands on Santana’s hips and edging her closer, closer until she’s pressed against Sam’s chest.  
  
‘It’s weird that he has no boobs,’ is what pops into her head, and it’s something of a relief when Brittany’s skin to skin at her back, from shoulder to knee, and her arms wrap around Santana’s waist.  
  
Brittany’s dotting kisses up her neck, but it’s a distraction from what she’s doing with her hands, which is taking Sam’s hands and bringing them up to cup Santana’s breasts. “Gentle,” she hears Brittany say, “really, really gentle.” And then she guides Sam’s hands into just the right amount of pressure, and it’s embarrassing that she’s teaching Sam all her tricks, but Santana is so, so grateful because: four hands on her at once.  
  
Tits are easy, but Brittany knows all her other spots, and with her hands free to touch the rest of Santana’s body, she’s into this very, very quickly. She doesn’t know what to do with her own hands though, so she settles for clutching at Brittany’s thighs, and she can feel them clenching in counterpoint every time she rocks back into Brittany’s body.  
  
She doesn’t realize one hand is missing from her skin until Sam’s gasping against her mouth, and she blinks open her eyes to see Brittany’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly.  
  
It feels very real, all at once, and she brings her hand around, hesitant for a moment but wanting to be a part of this.  
  
“It’s okay,” Sam says, and she wraps her hand around Brittany’s, their thumbs side by side, her other hand drawing Sam back to her mouth.  
  
One of his hands leaves her breast, trails down her stomach and settles on her hip. His thumb makes tiny circles, but he doesn’t go any further.  
  
Brittany has no such restraint, and after returning to pinch at her nipple for a while — how she’s stayed away so long, Santana doesn’t know — her hand matches Sam’s at her hip, before moving in to trail through the wetness already gathered between her legs.  
  
“You ready?” Brittany asks, and she is, she’s so ready.  
  
She nods, and then says “yes,” and then nods again, before turning to bring her lips to Brittany’s over her shoulder.  
  
“Sam, can you lie down?” Brittany asks, but it’s not really a question  
  
Sam disappears from her body, and Brittany surrounds her, fills her awareness completely, and for a moment it’s just them in the middle of the bed.  
  
“You ready?” Santana asks, and she pulls back further so she can see Brittany’s face when she answers.  
  
The nod of affirmation is immediate, as is the excited grin, and Brittany kisses her again, “let’s do this,” muttered against Santana’s lips. “Shift your leg,” she says after a final kiss, and Santana lets herself be guided by Brittany’s hands, her knees on either side of Sam’s legs and Brittany tucked up against her back.  
  
Sam grabs her hands as she moves forward, like he’s helping her into a horse-drawn carriage or something, but the mental image of Prince Charming dropping one of her hands to grip his cock is too much, and she starts to laugh, thin and broken.  
  
So maybe she’s a little nervous.  
  
“What’s so funny?” Brittany asks, and she doesn’t want to say exactly what she was thinking, so instead she says, “Life,” because it’s true.  
  
Sam’s eyebrow raises, and she rests a hand on his shoulder, the other smoothing over his forehead.  
  
“Sup, Trouty?” she asks, but it comes out soft and she can feel the matching smile on her face.  
  
“Not much, Snix,” Sam says, and she can’t help the way her eyes track down to where something is decided  _up_ , Sam’s face scrunching up to hold his laughter in.  
  
She leans to him, presses a kiss against his jaw, and then they’re sliding together, one of Brittany’s hands on her waist and the other tangled with Sam’s at her hip.  
  
It’s Brittany that guides her hips, pausing when Sam’s pressed against her, elastic tension the only thing holding him back from being inside her, and she lets go of Sam’s shoulder to grip Brittany’s hand, holding her close as she sinks down.  
  
This is really, really weird.  
  
(Physically, it’s not that different to Brittany taking her with this ridiculously sparkly blue strap on they own. She really loves it when Brittany does that. She would probably burn something down if anything ever happened to that ridiculously sparkly blue strap on.)  
  
But it’s not Brittany, in places where it’s only been Brittany for a long time now, and she just needs a moment to—  
  
“Hey,” Sam says, turning her head to the side, “open your eyes.” She does on an exhale, and Brittany’s right there, but it’s not enough.  
  
“Closer,” she says, and Brittany molds herself to Santana’s back, the hand not already tangled with Santana’s slipping from Sam’s grip to wrap fully around her waist. Sam switches hands so he can still hold on to Brittany, even as she holds onto Santana, and it’s too much, these two people like this, and she bites at her lip while she gets herself together.  
  
“You’re disgustingly sweet, you know that,” she says to Sam, and then she lifts herself up so she can roll her hips forward, and watching his eyes roll back a little gives her a perverse little thrill at knowing she’s still got it, even if she has absolutely no use for it.  
  
She finds a rhythm, and Brittany’s body settles into it, but just off beat enough to press into her on each roll of her hips. She focuses on that for a while, the slide and catch of their damp skin, until Brittany slips her hand down to press against her clit and she can’t ignore the tension between her legs anymore. Sam’s letting her lead the way, but he’s starting to press up every time she rocks down, and she covers Brittany’s stroking hand before upping her pace.  
  
There’s a trickle of sweat running down her back, and she doesn’t know if it’s from her or Brittany, but she reaches back, gripping at Brittany’s thigh and pulling her in harder, wanting her to come with them.  
  
The force of Brittany behind her and on her and Sam underneath her has her twitching all over as she gets closer, and she leans on Sam as her legs start to shake.  
  
“Oh god, ‘tana,” Sam whines, his teeth sinking into his lip for a moment. “Are you gonna?”  
  
“Yeah,” she says between two breaths, and she’s surprised because she didn’t think it would be this easy. “Just don’t— stop.”  
  
She’s grabbing at both of them, the twisted angle of her hips the final nudge she needs, and she can feel Brittany’s hands holding her so perfectly tightly.  
  
“San,” Brittany exhales into her neck, “San, can I come, too?”  
  
“Yes,” she says, “yes,” and then her entire body seizes, and she trusts Sam to hold them up even as she’s dimly aware that he’s coming as well, the heat blooming inside her and the rough jerk of his hips making her shudder against Brittany’s twitching hand.  
  
…  
  
She’s so overstimulated she can’t even pretend to be embarrassed as she eases off Sam and let’s Brittany lay her down.  
  
“That was not like I remembered,” she says, and then she snickers. “Should have always brought my girl with me.” She pats Brittany’s thigh with a shaky hand, which Brittany catches and brings to her lips.  
  
“Hey,” Sam says, “a little respect for the support team, thanks.”  
  
Brittany leans over and presses a soft, closed kiss to his lips. “Thanks, support team.”


End file.
